844 days, 20,256 hours, 1,215,360 minutes, or 72,921,600 seconds. That is the approximate duration of my world tour. I never wanted it to end and now, in a manner of speaking, I suppose it never has to. If you wish to go by country do so by clicking on one above. They are numbered in the order I visited them, more or less. If you enjoy reading about it even a tenth as much as I enjoyed living it then you will not have wasted your time. Grab a refreshing beverage, settle in a comfortable chair, and make a journey across the world, experiencing it as I did. Then get off your ass and check it out for yourself. You're not getting any younger.

Om Mani Padme Hum (Mustang, Nepal) The Finale

Nov
21st,
2009- In Chapter V of the “Kama Sutra”, On
the Kinds of Woman Resorted to by the Citizen there
is a list of woman not fit to ‘enjoyed’
(their term, not mine). The list includes:

-A leper

-A
lunatic

-A
woman turned out of caste

-A
woman who reveals secrets

-A
woman who publicly expresses a desire for sexual intercourse

-A
woman who is extremely white

-A
woman who is extremely black

-A
bad-smelling woman

-A
woman who is a near relative

-A
woman who is a female friend

-A
woman who leads the life of an ascetic

-And,
lastly, the wife of a relative, of a friend, of a learned Braham, and
of the king

Do we
really need to be cautioned against sleeping with lepers, and stinky
woman? Pretty sure those take care of themselves. And I’m going to
need a more specific definition of ‘lunatic’ (the book sheds no
light upon this). Again, I cannot make this stuff up.

So we
left Lo Manthang on Day 8 and began the journey back towards Jomsom.
The previous evening I was treated to dal bhat with yak meat (it was
delicious) and a viewing of the made-for-TV version of “Into
Thin Air” by John Krakauer on VHS. VHS? You know you are in a
savage land when you are forced to endure the abysmal picture quality
of a video cassette player. Barbarians.

I was
also entertained by watching the woman of the house enter the dining
area of the kitchen, stoke the fire, throw in another pile of cow
shit with her bare hands, and go right back to preparing dinner sans
hand cleansing. Double yum.

We
made our way to a village known as Lo Ghemi (or is it Ghami?) and I
had one of the most sublime experiences of the whole trip……a hot
shower. I thought I might melt. When I discovered that there was gas
powered hot water at this tea house I came close to kissing one of
the women in the kitchen. Perhaps, nine days is a bit too long
without showering, but then again, what the hell do I know?

Nine days sans shower and still one sexy bitch!

On
the way back I ran into Mustang’s version of a traffic jam. On a
narrow part of an uphill climb my progress was hampered by herds of
sheep, pack horses, and people. Slowing down is not a problem but the
horses and sheep kick up so much dust that to maintain position in
the rear of one of these trains is to endure mild asphyxiation. Not
only that the herdsmen are constantly whistling and grunting in an
effort to keep their animals motivated and moving along. After a few
hours it can start to wear on you and I seriously doubt the efficacy
of the exercise, but the again, what the hell do I know?

It was
also on the return that the clouds rolled in and sullied the
panoramas. This was not too disappointing as the weather on the
entrance was superb. A causal glance towards the Himalayas revealed
snow in the mountains and a few flakes even made it to the arid
country of Mustang (when I went pee pee in the middle of the night I
was accosted by a few diaphanous flakes).

I did,
however, feel sorry for the folks headed in the other direction. It
was getting colder, the skies were cloudy, and most of the locals
were headed down for the winter. In my estimation I took this trip at
the last possible moment to ensure a truly remarkable journey
(notwithstanding the King’s absence of course). I’ve learned that
most folks go in August and September but due to the lack of
facilities it can get crowded.

By
this time Hansel and Gretel were warming up to me and we even began
having actual conversations beyond the mild pleasantries almost
required when you encounter the same people day after day. Not that
they were going to invite me to their home in Germany for beer and
pretzels but we did get along well in the end. This, I am sure, was
due in no small part to the sharing of my pharmaceutical stash
(Doxycycline to be precise).

It
appears that the duo was having stomach issues and doxy can assist so
I offered them a few pills with the appropriate instructions. I
already knew that Grets was having an issue but I was not privy to
Hans’ intestinal tribulations until one fine morning on our return
journey. We again found ourselves in the same tea house and again in
adjacent rooms with the signature paper thin walls. Once again Grets
and I shared a wall while Hans was in the bed next to her. Well, at
around 6:30 am I hear unmistakable sound of flatulence,
phblaaaaaaat!, followed
by the distinctly German ‘Sheisse!!!!’ (shit), an expression
one makes in German when stubbing one’s toe or in the face of some
other type of misfortune .

Confused?
Allow me to assist. Hans pooped himself. Hans pooped in his sleeping
bag. He literally ‘shit the bed’. Hans sprung out of bed and
began attempting to clean up (this was clear by the sound of someone
dipping a cloth in water followed by the repetitive rubbing of
nylon). This took some time and required a trip to the toilet.
Imagine lying in bed and this is the symphony to which you awake?
Imagine trying to stifle laughter and avoid shitting yourself in the
process. At breakfast when I overheard Grets telling their guide that
they were now both having issues I was almost compelled to respond
with, “No shit”.

On
another day while stopping for lunch I was surprised to discover that
in one of the rooms on the ground floor some young men were in the
process of disemboweling a sheep. The room was filled with drying
sheep parts and on the floor was the recently deceased lying on its
back sans internal organs. I was not so much repulsed as I was
fascinated by the whole thing. I watched as one of the guys, with one
hand on the knife and another gripping one of the horns, causally cut
the head off and then continued organizing and cutting organs much
like I would go about rearranging my sock drawer. Many pictures
ensued.

The
highlight was when I saw the younger of the two standing in front of
me with a small silver bowl full of pieces of sheep liver while
nonchalantly swallowing them like it was a bar snack. My friend was
not rude as he offered me one of his tasty morsels. I came close. I
came really close but intestinal prudence prevailed (assisted by
Gretel’s remonstrations). Curiosity was killing me but I abstained.

The
rest of the trek was fairly uneventful and since we passed along the
exact same route (this time with cloudy skies) I took few pictures.
At a tea house in Kagbeni I was surprised to encounter a couple with
a newborn baby occupying one of the rooms. Who the hell brings a
seven week old baby on a trek in Nepal? I was stupefied and made no
to attempt to hide my bewildered countenance. I wanted to just walk
up to them and say, ‘Seriously’ while pointing at the infant but
decided against it. I never did find out where they were from but
someone guessed eastern Europe. Very strange. So I suppose all you
folks with young children should get off your asses and get out
there. If they can do it so can you. Let me know. I’ll start
stockpiling formula.

That
was my trip to Mustang. I am now back in Kathmandu planning my next
adventure. It appears I may do a hike in Langtang National Park
although I am not feeling 100% so there may be a delay. I was lucky
to visit Mustang when I did as the wind of change is upon the area.
Although there is distinct evidence of modernity and development the
pace will soon quicken substantially as a road is being built that
you will be able to take from Kathmandu all the way to Lo Manthang.
Once finished I have no doubt the character of this once forbidden
land will be changed forever. This will no doubt improve the lives of
all those that live along the route but with it will come the tsunami
of mass tourism. I suppose progress has its price.

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